


Moonlight and Magic

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gang Rape, Incest, M/M, Mpreg, Parent/Child Incest, Rating: NC17, Torture, Uncle/Nephew Incest, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy grew up knowing exactly what his life would be like; it had all been planned for him before he'd even been born, after all. Go to Hogwarts, become a Death Eater, marry a pureblood witch, produce an heir...and <i>nothing</i> was allowed to interfere with those plans.</p><p>But when Draco meets his Amna Chara - his soul mate - everything changes. His entire life is rearranged in the span of a few heartbeats, in a moonlit greenhouse, with a single kiss. And nothing will ever be what he expected again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Detention and Dirt

Neville Longbottom was always happiest when he was up to his elbows in dirt. As a 7th year, Neville could most often be found in Greenhouse 3 or, barring that, Greenhouse 2. He enjoyed the challenges presented by the more unmanageable magical plants and Professor Sprout appreciated the help of someone she didn't have to worry would hurt themselves. Neville felt at home around the plants; they didn't mock him or expect him to be something he wasn't sure he ever could be. They only wanted a little water, a bit of sunlight, and some of his time and attention; these things he freely gave.

 

In truth, it wasn't just that he was good at it. Nevilleactually _enjoyed_ gardening. He found it incredibly peaceful and soothing to be surrounded by lush, green foliage and vibrantly colored flowers; he found a sense of accomplishment in the feeling of moist dirt against his skin and under his nails. And, if Neville were being completely honest with himself, he found there was something vaguely arousing about the scent of new growth, loam, and the overly-sweet smell of decaying compost - something no one else seemed to understand. Which would be why, on this gorgeous Friday night in December, Neville could be found inside Greenhouse 3.

 

He had just finished pruning a Venomous Tentacula and was brushing his dirty hands off on his equally-dirty jeans when Pomona stuck her head through the door. She smiled in the green-tinged moonlight - she and Neville both enjoyed working in the dark - and called out to him. "Nev, dear, are you in the middle of anything particularly dangerous or time-sensitive?"

 

Neville smiled and headed towards the door quickly. Once he was there, he answered in his quiet, steady voice. "No, I'm not." He told her easily. She was one of the only teachers who didn't make him nervous; Pomona _understood_ him. "Did you need me for something?"

 

"Actually, yes." She gave him a weary smile. "As you know, I'm very busy in Greenhouse 2 with...well, with that little project of mine." She blushed and Neville nodded; she was referring to an illegal plant she'd procured cuttings from, which had to be re-potted during the full moon - in other words, tonight. "Anyway, I was flustered in the halls the other day and gave a student detention _tonight_ without thinking and..." She trailed off.

 

"I can't handle the plant." Neville said calmly; since it was an illegal plant, Pomona would be in ten times the trouble if she let a student touch it. "So I'm guessing you want me to supervise the detention. I don't mind. What are they doing?"

 

"Oh thank you, Nev!" She gave him a quick hug that left them both feeling vaguely flustered as they were both naturally shy. Pomona cleared her throat. "Yes, well. He's in Greenhouse 1 and I figured since he's young and fit you can just have him haul dirt and pots around to the different stations for you, in here or in there. Where ever you need." She smiled in a motherly way. "Not that you aren't capable of doing it yourself, of course. But I'd prefer you used your strength to handle my plants, rather than wasting it lugging dirt.

 

"Perfect." Neville grinned. "There's some stuff in here I've been itching to re-pot, but I just haven't had time to haul _and_ re-pot and I hate splitting a job up. I always end up feeling lazy. This way he can haul while I plant." Neither mentioned the possibility of moving the dirt and pots with magic; the plants in Greenhouse 3 were too sensitive and would either die or attack if exposed to magic that way.

 

Pomona thanked him again and Neville walked with her until she entered Greenhouse 2, chatting about various gardening techniques. Once she'd entered the glass building, Neville practically ran the rest of the way to the door of Greenhouse 1. It was cold out (though thankfully not snowing) but the greenhouses were very warm and Neville was in only a dark blue tee-shirt and his jeans - he'd left his cloak in Greenhouse 3. He rushed inside, shivering, and shut the thick glass door with a loud crack. Then he stomped his feet to rid his boots of yesterday's snow that still covered the ground outside, breathing briskly into his cupped hands to warm them. He froze in that position, trembling, when a cool, sneering voice snaked its way down his spine.  
  
"Well, well, well...if it isn't Longbottom. Forgotten your cloak?" Draco Malfoy sneered as he stepped out of the shadows and into the green-tinged moonlight that filled the building. "I can't say I'm surprised. You probably lose your _wand_ three times a week, don't you?"  
  
Neville took a deep breath and drew strength from his surroundings. In here, _he_ was the Master, not Malfoy. In here, _he_ was best. "You might want to watch what you say, Malfoy." Neville told him, his voice mild and his expression pleasant. "I'm supervising your detention, after all."  
  
Draco's face hardened. "The fuck if you are, Longbottom." He spat coldly. "Sprout said her assistant would be handling it."  
  
Neville grinned. "Yes, well. If you took Herbology still you'd know that I _am_ her assistant, wouldn't you?" He turned on his heel and headed back towards the door. When he realized Draco wasn't following, he snapped. "You'll be serving your detention in Greenhouse 3, Malfoy, so _come on_. I don't have all night." He thought he'd managed to sound a fair bit like Snape for a moment there and Neville was proud of himself - especially when Draco followed him silently.  
  
Once there, Neville gave Draco instructions on what he wanted moved, where it could be found, and where it needed to go. He stressed that Draco's wand was to remain holstered _at all times_ or he risked being eaten by a fern or something similar, then he began his planting. It was a soothing process and Neville let his mind wander to various things as he worked. Before he realized it, three hours had come and gone and the time was just creeping past 11. The alarm he'd set on the door earlier buzzed softly - one, two, three times - to warn him it was nearly curfew for the 7th years. He sighed and rubbed his palms against his jeans, though it was definitely a lost cause - he and his clothing were covered in damp earth.  
  
Neville stood up and looked around for Draco so he could dismiss the blonde. He spotted the Slytherin and couldn't help the grin that crept across his face. Draco's face was flushed a dark pink and sweat had his hair clinging damply to his face and neck in loose curls Neville was sure the other boy would deny having. His white button-up was streaked black by rich, moist soil - the sacks holding it tended to leak a bit if hefted too roughly - and he'd rolled the sleeves up past his elbows at some point. His hands and arms were also streaked with dirt and there was a smear of black across his left cheek where he'd most-likely pushed back a strand of that platinum hair. Sure enough, when Neville looked, he could see dirt in Draco's hair as well.  
  
He watched, unwillingly impressed, as Draco hefted a huge clay pot easily into his arms. His shirt pulled tight across his back, clinging wetly to the Slytherin's sweat-soaked alabaster skin, and Neville watched his muscles moving under his skin. Draco turned and silver eyes met brown. Startled by the intensity of the Gryffindor's stare, Draco nearly dropped the pot. He managed not to at the last second and walked briskly over to Neville, setting it down next to the slightly-taller boy with a loud, dull 'clunk' that made Neville wince. He hated when people didn't respect his equipment.  
  
Draco wondered at the odd look on the brunette's face, then tipped his head quizzically to the side. "Can I go?" He asked, all traces of his earlier-attitude missing from his voice.  
  
He was weary and his arms and shoulders and back and even his _legs_ were burning. He felt like he'd just practiced Quidditch for 12 hours straight, or like he'd gone a few rounds with the Cruciatus Curse. Malfoy's just weren't _built_ for physical labor and all Draco wanted to do was burn his filthy clothing, soak in a hot bath for the next two hours, change into something comfortable and clean and _silk_ , and then sleep for the entire weekend. In order to do that, Longbottom had to dismiss him. So he wasn't going to pick a fight with the person who held the key to freeing him from this drudgery.  
  
When the Gryffindor didn't say anything for a long moment, Draco grudgingly added. "Please?"  
  
Neville shook his head. He felt...strange. Bold. Empowered. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, covered in dirt and sweat and looking more human than Neville had ever realized he could. And for the first time in 7 years, the Gryffindor realized he was taller than Draco. He was no longer the pudgy, weak boy Malfoy had pushed around for so long. He was strong, fit, and powerful. Standing there in the moonlit greenhouse, with steam fogging the glass as fat snowflakes began to gently fall from the nearly-cloudless sky, Neville truly felt like a Gryffindor for the first time. Here, surrounded by green and life and the smell of compost and earth and growing things, Neville felt brave and determined. Just this once, he wouldn't back down. Just this once, he would be everything that he'd always wanted to be and everything he'd never believed he'd find the strength to be. Just this once, he would boldly grab something he wanted, without worrying about the consequences or tomorrow or even 5 minutes from now.  
  
Draco opened his mouth to ask what else he needed to do to be dismissed but found he couldn't speak. That wasn't too surprising, when you factored in the fact that there were suddenly two tongues in his mouth - one of which most definitely was _not_ his. He stood, frozen, for the space of 9 rapid, awkward heartbeats. One of Neville's large, dirt-encrusted hands was cradling Draco's face and one strong arm was around Draco's waist, pulling the blonde's lithe, slender body tightly against the Gryffindor's hard, well-muscled frame. The brunette's rough, slightly chapped lips were pressed against Draco's petal-soft mouth and his tongue - which Draco faintly noticed tasted like strawberries and whipped cream and green tea - was tracing the line of Draco's teeth. And during those heartbeats that Draco remained still, he could feel the tension in Neville's frame.  
  
Then the hand cupping his cheek shifted and was suddenly fisted in damp, sweaty blonde hair. Draco gasped as the sharp tug sent a wave of pleasure through his entire body. He arched against Neville and moaned softly into the other boy's mouth. His hands rested lightly on Neville’s chest and he clutched desperately at the taller boy’s shirt as his hair was given another sharp tug. The third tug had his head falling back, breaking the kiss as a keening cry left his mouth and his whole body bowed, pressing him closer to Neville as he rolled up onto his toes and his hands streaked up the other boy’s chest and around his neck. Some small part of Draco's brain screamed that this was _Longbottom_ he was suddenly so desperate for, but the rest of him didn't seem to care. Neville had grown up well and this forceful, dominant side of his personality appealed to Draco in a way he couldn't explain.  
  
Then, quite suddenly - and just as Draco had decided he should wiggle himself closer and kiss Neville until that wonderful tongue was back in his mouth - Draco was swaying in place, quite alone. Neville was a good 10 feet away before the blonde could so much as blink. "Wha..." Draco stopped, unable to believe the low, sultry sound of his own voice. He cleared his throat but didn't try to speak again, afraid of what it might sound like. Instead he plastered a confused look on his face - it wasn't hard, considering how bereft and cold he felt, standing there alone in the sultry air of the greenhouse.  
  
"You're dismissed." Neville's voice was low, but calm and steady. He turned his back on Draco and began to clean up the area he'd been working in. "It's nearly curfew, Malfoy." He added coolly, without turning around. "I suggest you head back to the school."  
  
Draco stood there a moment longer, torn. A very large part of him wanted to grab Neville and demand another kiss, another embrace...or, perhaps, just a bloody _explanation_ , for surely the Gryffindor owed him that at the very least. Instead, looking bewildered, he put on his cloak and gloves and scarf. Then, with one last confused look in Neville's direction, Draco left the warm glass building and began the trek through the gently-falling snow and frigid air, back up to Hogwarts.  
  
Neville finished cleaning up Greenhouse 3, put on his own cloak, and stepped out of the building, taking the time to lock it securely behind him. As he walked, soft whiteness falling silently around him and clinging to his hair and eyelashes and muffling his footsteps, his breath puffing up in little clouds before his face, he pondered the end of the evening. Draco Malfoy had smelled of damp earth, and salty sweat, and something faintly fruity and exotic that Neville suspected was the blonde's shampoo. He'd tasted of chocolate and fresh, strong mint - green and bitingly sharp and clean. And he'd felt perfect against him - his silky hair and soft skin had felt just as right under Neville's hands as dirt and roots and plants always had. It was something to consider, anyway, and as Neville opened the front door to enter the castle he found himself smiling over the fact that he still felt rather like a Gryffindor - bold and daring and eager to grab whatever he desired, damn the consequences.  
  
And if it didn't work out...well, he could always blame the full moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> w00t! I just BARELY made the word limit on this one. ^_^ I'm sitting at a lovely 2359 words. For logical reasons, the word "garden" triggered in my mind an image of Neville in the Greenhouse. Somehow, that swiftly morphed into an image of Neville and Draco in the Greenhouse and I can't for the life of me figure out why! But I enjoyed writing this and I like how Nev is the aggressor. I thought it was sort of sweet and endearing, on both their parts, at different points. What did you think? Love it, hate it, don't care? Let me know! 
> 
> ~ Lady S.


	2. Common Rooms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first chapter of this was written for an admin’s “garden challenge” over on a page I admin on FB. I fell in love with it, though, and decided I ought to continue it. So here’s some quick background for you, since there wasn't any in the previous chapter! HBP and DH didn’t happen. So Albus is alive and Severus still teaches Potions and Voldemort is still at large and all the HP&Co. crew is at Hogwarts. Happy reading!
> 
> ~ Lady S.

Draco was dazed. He half-staggered into the Slytherin Common Room, dropped his cloak, hat, and scarf on a chair, and sank down in a limp heap on a couch. Nearly everyone was in bed, with the exception of a handful of 6th and 7th year students. Every single one of them turned to stare at Draco in shock. His normally-perfect hair looked tousled and messy and was full of dirt. His face and shirt and hands and arms were also all covered in dirt and drying sweat. His lips were slightly-puffy, as though he’d been chewing on them – or he’d been kissing someone. Pansy, Millicent, Theodore, and Blaise all cautiously approached him. Stopping about 10 feet from the couch, the others shooed Pansy forward.

 

“Um…Draco…” She said softly and carefully. “You do realize you’re filthy, right?”

 

Draco looked up at her, his silver eyes glazed over, and blinked very slowly. “Yes.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” Pansy glanced back at their friends and they gave her encouraging nods so she turned back to Draco and said. “You do realize you’re sitting on a very expensive leather couch, _and you’re filthy_ , right, Draco?”

 

Draco’s head tipped slightly to one side and his brow furrowed. “Yes.” He said simply.

 

Now Pansy was both exasperated and confused. “Okay, but _why_?” She demanded, placing her hands on her hips and looking annoyed.

 

“Why am I filthy?” Draco asked, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. “Or why am I sitting on a couch?” Before she could speak, he leaned back again and seemed to melt into the sofa cushions. “It doesn’t matter; the answer is the same. I had detention in the Greenhouses and had to haul dirt and heavy clay pots. I wanted to sit and catch my breath for a moment before showering and going to bed, because I’m bloody-well exhausted.”

 

“Was it a group detention?” Pansy asked quietly. Draco closed his eyes and shook his head, remembering the feel of Neville’s mouth on his. Pansy and their friends shared a concerned look.

 

“Are you drunk?” Blaise blurted out before anyone could shush him.

 

“What? No, of course not!” Draco’s eyes flew open and he looked at his friend like he was stupid. “Are _you_?” He demanded. “What kind of ridiculous question is that?”

 

“Well, you’re the one who looks like he just got shagged in a greenhouse.” Blaise snapped. “And if it wasn’t a group detention, who the hell were you fucking around with? Professor Sprout?”

 

Draco turned an odd shade of greyish-green. “That is the vilest thing I’ve ever heard!” Draco hissed angrily. “I wasn’t _shagging_ anyone, Blaise. And _Sprout_ wasn’t the one who supervised my detention!” Draco pushed himself wearily to his feet, glaring at everyone present. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go wash off this grime and get some sleep. Good night.” He stomped off angrily, if tiredly, towards the bathrooms.

 

The Common Room was quiet for several long moments, then Tracey Davis spoke up from where she and Daphne Greengrass had been shameless eavesdropping at a nearby table. “I didn’t realize a teacher could pass off a detention like that.” When everyone (except Daphne) looked at her like she was an idiot, she snapped. “I mean, obviously they can give us detention _with_ another member of the staff, like Filch or whoever. But I mean, Professor Snape would _never_ have us sorting potions’ ingredients without him being the one to supervise us. It’s too dangerous! Surely a detention in the greenhouses should need to be supervised by Sprout.”

 

Pansy sighed and perched herself on the arm of the couch Draco had sat on, facing the back of the sofa and the table her dorm mates were sitting at. “It’s not really something that happens often, but in the event of an emergency or a scheduling mistake with a detention, the Professors have three options for handling it.” As a Prefect, Pansy knew all sorts of things most students didn’t about the rules. “They can reschedule the detention, they can alter the detention so that another staff member is capable of supervising, or they can have their assistant watch over the detention. Provided, of course.” Pansy added quickly. “That they _have_ an assistant. Most of the Professors don’t, because they can only have a 7 th year as an assistant and it has to be someone who excels at the subject and who intends to pursue it as a career.”

 

“I don’t take Herbology anymore.” Theodore said with a frown. “Does anyone know who Sprout’s assistant is? If she didn’t supervise, then her assistant must be who Draco was snogging.”

 

Tracey and Daphne shared a look that the others noticed immediately. “Do you two take Herbology then?” Blaise demanded. When they girls nodded, he eagerly sat down at their table. “So, who is it? Is it that little blonde fluff-ball from Hufflepuff? Bones or something?”

 

“Susan?” Daphne laughed, shaking her head. “No. She’s okay at Herbology, but she’s nowhere near good enough to be Sprout’s assistant.” Daphne sobered quickly, though, all traces of mirth leaving her face. “You guys honestly can’t think of any student in our year that has shown a marked fondness for plants? Really?”

 

It was Millicent who, after nearly 5 minutes during which everyone struggled to think of something, finally spoke. “Didn’t that Longbottom boy have a cactus-thing on the train one year?” When everyone turned to stare at her, she shrugged. “I was at the trolley buying snacks and Potter opened his compartment door.  They were all covered in some kind of goop and Longbottom was holding a cactus and apologizing.”

 

Pansy scoffed loudly. “Longbottom? You’re kidding, Millie! Draco would never…” She trailed off when Daphne and Tracey both blushed and looked at their hands. “ _No_!” She said, a bit breathlessly, torn between looking horrified and intrigued. “It’s really Longbottom?”

 

Daphne sighed and nodded. “Yes. He’s Sprout’s assistant. And he’s really good with plants. He’s always out in the greenhouses between classes and after dinner and such.” She looked over at Tracey. “I guess it wouldn’t have been hard to get him to watch the detention since he was probably already down there, working on something.”

 

“That’s true.” Tracey said, looking thoughtful. “You know, I can totally see it.” She smiled a bit at Daphne who grinned back. “I mean, Neville is really sweet and all, but he’s clever too. And very funny. I think he’d balance Draco out nicely…”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Theodore asked, wrapping his arm around Pansy and leaning against the side of the couch she was still perched on the arm of. “I mean, Longbottom? He’s a chubby little brat who whinges if you even look at him funny!”

 

“You’re an idiot.” Tracey spat, her cheeks flushing darkly while her brown eyes flashed fiercely. “Neville isn’t chubby any longer! He’s almost pure muscle these days. Just yesterday I saw him lift a potted plant that must have weighed as much as Professor Sprout does and he didn’t even look strained!”

 

Daphne tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and glared at Theo as well. “And he’s not a coward, either! Just because he doesn’t go looking for a fight doesn’t mean he’s weak! He’s also one of the sweetest guys _ever_! Draco Malfoy could do a hell of a lot worse than Neville Longbottom!”

 

Tracey nodded her agreement, looking determined. “Yes, and Neville could probably do a lot better than the prat who’s spent the last 6 and a half years being an arse to him, so Draco should count himself _lucky_ to be given this chance!”

 

Then, before anyone else could say anything, Tracy and Daphne had snatched up their things and stomped off towards their dorm. “Well.” Pansy finally said, though she added nothing else. She couldn’t think of anything else _to_ say. Imagine…Longbottom and Draco. It was…hmmm. Well. Yes. Pansy would definitely have to consider this carefully before making any decisions. Very carefully indeed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Neville was whistling by the time he reached the Portrait of the Fat Lady. “Snitch-nip.” He said with a charming smile and a daring wink. The Fat Lady giggled as she swung open. Neville placed his foot on the bottom of the hole, braced his hands on either side, and in one fluid motion hefted himself up and through the opening. The best thing about being tall was that he no longer had to clamber through the entrance like an idiot. He walked into the nearly-empty Common Room with a definite bounce in his step, still whistling happily.

 

Ginny, Dean, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to stare at him in shocked silence. It wasn’t unusual for Neville to come in right at curfew – or even a little after. He often got distracted by his work in the greenhouses. It also wasn’t unusually for him to come in looking like a recalcitrant child who’d been making mud pies for a tea party – Herbology was messy work. What _was_ unusual was his cheerful demeanor, his confident and flirtatious smile, the smeared handprints on his chest and shoulders, and the fact that his lips were two shades darker than normal. When no  one said anything right away, Neville raised an eyebrow and waited.

 

“Where were _you_ , Nev?” Ginny asked teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows and grinning.

 

Neville glanced down at himself, then looked back up at Ginny with a serious expression. “Isn’t it obvious? I was in the kitchens, helping the House Elves cook.” His deadpan statement gave everyone a moment’s pause – Neville rarely made jokes.

 

Harry was the first to start laughing, but everyone soon joined in. When they’d caught their breath, Harry asked. “So who was in the greenhouses with you?” He asked. “Someone ask you for remedial Herbology lessons or something?”

 

“No, I had to supervise a detention for Pomona.” Neville explained; he called his professor by her first name since he was her assistant and spent so much time with her. “Mostly I spent it repotting stuff in Greenhouse 3, but…” he grinned cheekily. “Let’s just say my night ended well.”

 

Hermione squealed and hugged Neville. “Oh Nev! Who is she?” She demanded, her arms still around his neck. “When can we meet her? She’s got to be at least a 6th year, if she served detention in Greenhouse 3, right? Tell us everything!”

 

Neville chuckled, settling his arms comfortably around Hermione’s waist. “I’m not telling you who it was until tomorrow, but they’re a 7th year.” Neville explained. “I plan on spending the day with them in Hogsmeade, provided they’re agreeable. So you’ll just have to wait.”

 

Hermione pouted slightly, then shifted her hands, studying the smudgy handprints on Neville’s shirt with interest. “Are we allowed to guess?” She asked slyly. When Neville nodded, she did her best to make her hands follow the marks, even rolling up onto her toes to add height. Then she stepped back with a frown. “Hmmm…taller than me.” She said softly – she’d had a lot of trouble keeping her hands on the dirt, even while up on her toes. “Ginny, you’ve got about an inch or so on me; you try.”

 

Ginny hopped off of Dean’s lap and approached a grinning Neville. “Do you mind?” She asked, with a saucy smile.

 

“Not at all.” He grinned back, winking at her. “You aren’t going to figure it out, but it’s amusing to watch Hermione’s brain work.”

 

Ginny giggled and did her best to repeat Hermione’s experiment. She too had trouble fitting her hands along the marks, though not as much as Hermione had had. “I think she’s taller than I am, too.” She told Hermione with a frown. “What now?”

 

Hermione scanned their group and finally gestured to Harry. “Harry, you’re just about two inches taller than Ginny. You try.”

 

Harry chuckled, but stood. “You cool with this Nev?” Harry asked, since having a guy press against you was a bit different than having a girl do it.

 

“Sure.” Neville said with a shrug. “Like I said, it’s fun watching Hermione reason things out.”

 

Harry walked up to Neville and comfortably settled his hands high on the other boy’s chest, where the handprints started. Then he rolled himself up onto his toes, trying to keep his hands on the streaky smears as he did, but it was difficult. “Doesn’t make sense.” Ron said; he’d been watching silently from the couch. When everyone looked at him, he added. “Well, Harry’s hands started in the right spot and all and it looked natural for them to be there, but he couldn’t follow the lines easy, right?”

 

Hermione circled the two boys with a frown. “I just don’t get it.” She said, muttering under her breath. “I don’t see how…”

 

“Want a clue?” Neville asked with a grin. Hermione looked torn, making him laugh. Then he looked down at Harry. “Help me indulge Hermione’s curiosity, Harry?” When Harry nodded, he added. “Go back to the starting position and slowly roll up onto your toes while moving your hands, okay?”

 

“Sure.” Harry resettled his hands on his friend’s chest and raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

 

Neville nodded and as Harry began to move, he wrapped one arm around Harry’s waist, dragging him closer, and fisted the other in Harry’s hair, causing the smaller boy’s back to arch. Sure enough, Harry’s hands moved almost exactly over the dirt marks. The moment they stopped, Neville released Harry with a grin. “Yes, Harry’s almost exactly the same height.” He yawned and said. “Now, I’m off to bed. Feel free to keep guessing.” He made it to the doorway leading to the stairs before he added. “But if you keep assuming something, you’ll _never_ get it.” Then he disappeared.

 

Hermione frowned after him. “What are we assuming?” Dean asked as Harry sat back on the floor in front of the couch. “That she’s as tall as Harry?”

 

“No.” Hermione spoke slowly, her face thoughtful as her mind raced. “No, see, Nev confirmed that she’s about the same height as Harry. Plus we proved it.”

 

“That it’s a student?” Ron asked, frowning as his sister sat on Dean’s lap again.

 

“No, Neville confirmed that, too.” Ginny pointed out, resting her head on Dean’s shoulder. “He said she’s a 7th year, remember? Plus she was serving detention.”

 

“That it’s a she.” Harry said softly, meeting Hermione’s wide eyes with his own. “Neville never once said ‘she’ and let’s face it, as short as I am there still aren’t many girls who are my height.”

 

Hermione sat there, stunned into silence, for a long moment. “Oh my goodness, you’re right.” She started to laugh then. “And he never corrected us. Not once. He’s so sneaky!” She shook her head, sharing a grin with Harry. “I mean, really. It’s not as though Nev has ever dated a girl. I don’t know why I assumed…”

 

“He took me to the Yule Ball.” Ginny pointed out. “Doesn’t that count?”

 

Ron shook his head. “No, see, he only asked you because you wouldn’t have been able to go without a date so he assumed you’d say yes.”

 

Hermione nodded. “I’ve never seen him stare at a girl’s chest, either. He always looks people in the eyes and I just…well.” She flushed a bit and said. “Well, I assumed he was just such a gentleman because he was raised by his grandmother. It never occurred to me it might be because…”

 

When she trailed off, Harry said. “Because he has no interest in breasts?”

 

“Harry!” Hermione flushed darkly and smacked him in the back of the head with a throw pillow from the couch she was on. Then she added. “But yes.”

 

Everyone chuckled and debated for a few minutes, wondering who it might be. Finally, with Dean, Ron, and Ginny insisting it was Ernie Macmillan (who was just a little bit taller than Harry) while Hermione and Harry thought it was Terry Boot (who had taken over as Ravenclaw’s Seeker that year and was nearly a perfect match for Harry’s height and build), they decided to go to sleep mostly because they wanted to be sure to be up and in the Great Hall when Neville asked his mystery-man to go to Hogsmeade with him in the morning. They couldn’t wait.


	3. Surprises and Sass

Harry, Ginny, Ron, Dean, and Hermione watched eagerly as Neville ate his breakfast. They were slightly disappointed when he finally stood and walked out of the Great Hall, but quickly hurried after him. It was December 20th and the next day (Sunday the 21st), everyone who was going home for the holidays was leaving. So everyone in 3rd year and above was eager to spend the day in Hogsmeade with their friends before the majority of the school left. Many had gathered in the entrance hall to wait; they couldn’t head down to the village until 10am.The group of Gryffindors decided Neville would seek out his mysterious snogging partner in the crush of students and followed closely enough to keep the other boy in view, but not so closely as to intrude.

 

“Oh my…” Hermione breathed as Neville boldly approached a group of 7th year Slytherins, consisting of Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and Pansy Parkinson. “I suppose I can see why he didn’t tell us.”

 

Harry nodded, looking serious. “Yes. A Slytherin. Hmmm.” He sighed. “Well, that’s fine. I’m not going to say I understand it, but I intend to support Neville. I don’t care if he walks over here and says he’s dating Professor Snape. He was happier last night than I’ve ever seen him and if it takes a Slytherin to make him that happy, then fine.” The others said nothing, but nodded their agreement.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Neville knew his friends were watching him, but it didn’t matter. He still felt bold and confident. He walked up to Draco and his friends. “Malfoy.” He greeted, smiling slightly. “I’d like a word.”

 

Draco spun quickly around to face him, his face flushing. He’d spent several hours last night thinking and had decided it would be better if he just stayed away from Longbottom. It seemed, however, that the Gryffindor boy wasn’t going to cooperate with his plans. He’d fix that soon enough. “No.” He snapped. “I have no desire to speak to you.”

 

Neville grinned wider and leaned down slightly until he was nearly nose-to-nose with the blonde. “I know I said that politely, Malfoy, but it wasn’t a request. Come with me or we’ll have this discussion in front of your friends.” Neville straightened up and waved his hand imperiously. “It’s up to you.”

 

Blaise took a step closer to Neville. “So, Longbottom. You supervised Draco’s detention last night?” He asked, ignoring how Pansy groaned and covered her eyes with her hands – his tendency to speak every thought he had annoyed his fellow Slytherins to no end. The boy was far from subtle.

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did.” Neville replied, his grin turning smoothly into a smirk. “I’m also the one who snogged him and then sent him back to his Common Room. I think he’s a bit ticked off at me right now for dismissing him that way.”

 

“I am not!” Draco snapped, blushing. “I just don’t want to be around you, Longbottom! All I want is to pretend that last night didn’t happen.”

 

“Mmmm, yeah. That’s going to be a bit of a problem for me.” Neville replied with a charming smile. “I can’t seem to stop thinking about that kiss, you see. So, I was thinking…how about a little wager?”

 

Draco’s cool grey eyes met Neville’s warm amber ones. “A wager.” He repeated, frowning. “What sort of wager are we talking about here?”

 

“A coin toss, so 50-50 odds.” Neville replied smoothly. “Perfectly fair. If I win, you spend today in Hogsmeade with me. If you win…” he paused, thinking for a moment, and then shrugged. “If you win then you can name your prize.”

 

Draco hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “Fine. A coin toss.” When Neville pulled a sickle out of his pocket, Draco scoffed and drew a gold galleon out of his. “We’ll use this.” He stated. He threw it into the air, holding out his hand – palm up – to catch it, and added. “Call it, Longbottom.”

 

As the golden coin flashed through the air, turning only a few times on the up-toss and not at all on the way down, Neville remembered something the twins had once shared with Harry – Harry, in turn, had shared it with all the boys in their dorm. When the Ministry minted galleons, they made sure to make the Gringotts-emblazoned-side heavier. This way, if someone dropped one, it would always land Ministry-side up. That way when it got picked up, the Ministry of Magic was the first thing seen. So in a coin toss, where the coin is flipped onto the opposite hand from the hand catching it, one should always call _’Goblin’_. It was impossible to lose a galleon-coin-toss if you knew this fact and were the one calling.

 

“Goblin.” Neville said softly just as the coin hit Draco’s palm. The blonde immediately smacked the coin onto the back of his left hand and looked at it, his face showing his shock. “I win.” Neville said, without looking down at the coin.

 

Draco’s face tightened unhappily. “You cheated.” He accused, tucking the coin back in his pocket and glaring at Neville. “Admit it!”

 

Neville smirked back at him. “It was your coin, Malfoy. I tried to use a sickle, but you refused.” He shrugged. “I can’t help it if the Ministry makes galleons heavier on one side.”

 

Draco fumed silently because he knew the Gryffindor was right. He had chosen the coin and couldn’t call foul now. “Fine.” He bit out tersely. “I’ll spend the day with you. I’d like to…”

 

“No.” Neville cut him off smoothly. “I decide what we do. Then, if you can manage to behave yourself, I’ll consider letting you plan our next date.”

 

Pansy, Theodore, and Blaise were watching Neville and Draco’s interaction with fascination. They had never seen anyone stand up to Draco that way and had certainly never imagined that Neville Longbottom ever would. It was sort of interesting to see someone dominate Draco this way; the blonde was always so in-control. The way he grudgingly ceded to the other boy’s demands was amazing. They could all sort of see what Daphne and Tracey had been talking about the night before.

 

Draco ground his teeth, but nodded. When Neville held out his hand to Draco, however, he shook his head. “No.” He snapped. “Absolutely not. Not happening. Keep dreaming, Longbottom.”

 

Neville’s eyes hardened and his smile turned cool. “Malfoy; do you have a problem with public displays of affection? Because that’s going to be an issue.” When Draco merely glared, he snapped. “I am not a secret, Malfoy. I am not something for you to be ashamed of. You’ll learn that quickly enough. Now either take my hand or I’ll give all the people watching us something to talk about.”

 

“I dare you to fucking try!” Draco hissed angrily. “I don’t touch people in public, Longbottom. If you don’t like it, go find someone else to bother.”

 

“You have until the count of three, Malfoy.” Neville’s voice was low and dangerous. “One.” He paused slightly and then said. “Two…”

 

Pansy put a gentle hand on Theodore’s shoulder when he moved to step forward; this wasn’t something she thought they should interfere in. She saw Draco set his jaw and narrow his eyes. Her friend wouldn’t be taking Longbottom’s hand; that much she was certain of. And while she couldn’t be sure what the Gryffindor boy would do when Draco continued to refuse, she had a feeling it would be shriek-worthy and she didn’t want to miss it.

 

“Three.” Draco glared up at Neville and Neville raised an eyebrow, wiggling his fingers slightly. “Last chance to do this the easy way, Malfoy. What’s it going to be?”

 

“Bite me.” Draco snapped.

 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Dean all gasped and clung to each other for support at what happened next. Theodore had to catch Pansy as her knees gave out (and she let out a faint squeal), though he wasn’t too stable himself, and Blaise sat down on the floor in shock. A little bit off to the side, Daphne and Tracey sighed dreamily, their hands pressed to their hearts. Everyone else reacted in much the same way – either falling over shocked, or sighing dreamily.

 

When Draco snapped his refusal, Neville reached out quickly and fisted his right hand in Draco’s silky platinum hair. He wrapped his left arm around Draco’s waist and tugged the smaller boy up against his chest, yanking sharply on Draco’s hair to tip his head back. His mouth covered Draco’s before the Slytherin could protest. Neville nipped lightly at Draco’s bottom lip, sighing in pleasure when Draco softened against him, opening his mouth for Neville’s tongue. He kissed Draco leisurely, his tongue moving over straight teeth and then lightly stroking the roof of Draco’s mouth. The blonde shivered in Neville’s embrace, winding his arms around the taller boy’s neck and pressing closer.

 

After a long, lingering kiss Neville slowly drew back, releasing the blonde. Draco was dazed again. He didn’t know why, but whenever Neville kissed him he felt claimed; possessed. It was like he belonged to Neville and the second the other boy touched him, he melted. He couldn’t fight it, couldn’t resist – it was like he belonged in the Gryffindor’s arms and his body knew it. He blinked slowly up at Neville, ignoring the several-dozen pairs of eyes staring at them. He didn’t know what to do.

 

“Now will you take my hand?” Neville asked, his voice low and husky as he lowered his head until his forehead and nose touched Draco’s.

 

A small, saucy smile crept onto Draco’s full lips. “If I don’t,” He asked softly, his silver eyes dancing with mischief. “Will you kiss me like that again?”

 

Neville couldn’t help himself; he threw back his head and laughed loudly. Who would have imagined that Draco Malfoy, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, could be so sassy? It was a pleasant surprise. Getting himself under control – though he was still smiling – he met Draco’s eyes and shook his head. “No, Malfoy, I won’t. If you refuse, I’ll assume you can’t stand me touching you and I won’t kiss you for the rest of the day.”

 

Draco pouted slightly, but nodded. Then he got a sly look on his face, his eyes turned calculating, and in an innocent voice he said. “If I agree to hold your hand, will you give me a promise in return?”

 

“That depends on what it is.” Neville said cautiously; he knew Draco was sneaky. “But if it’s a reasonable request, then absolutely.”

 

“If I hold your hand.” Draco said in a purr, his eyes darkening from pale mercury to nearly black as he spoke. “You have to promise I’ll get at least three more of those kisses by the end of the day.”

 

Neville growled low in his throat; Draco looked positively enticing like that. “Not a problem.” He agreed, touching Draco’s cheek lightly, and then adding. “<i>If</i> you remain on your best behavior. If you act up, then the deal’s off.”

 

Draco nodded slowly. “Deal.” He whispered, then he shot Neville a smoldering look from under his eyelashes. “Now, about those kisses…”

 

Neville laughed softly and cupped Draco’s face in his hands. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s lips before straightening up. “Not right now.” He told the blonde. “First, you need to meet my friends.”


	4. Amna Chara

Draco stared up at Neville in shock, wondering if the other boy was on something. “I’ve known your friends for the last 6 and a half years, Longbottom.” He pointed out dryly. “I hardly think we need to be introduced.”

 

Neville sighed. “No, you’ve _fought_ my friends – and me – for the last 6 and a half years. You don’t _know_ them.” He held out his hand again with a small smile. “Now, come meet them. And no rude, insulting, or offensive comments, okay?”

 

Draco pouted, but took Neville’s hand. He took a second to note the differences – Neville’s hand was large and rough and faintly tanned; a stark contrast to his own delicate, soft, pale white skin. “What if one of _them_ says something insulting to _me_?”

 

“Then you let me handle it.” Neville said firmly. “If this is going to work between us, you need to trust that I’ll defend you.”

 

“Oh really?” Draco snapped, his voice cold. He struggled to tug his hand away from Neville’s, but the Gryffindor wouldn’t let go. “Dammit, Longbottom! I’m not a child and I don’t need you to protect me from your stupid friends. Let go of me!” Draco stopped pulling when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to get free and glared up at the smug boy. “Would you let me defend you to _my_ friends?”

 

“Of course not.” Neville replied without hesitation. “But your friends are Slytherins and would look down on me if I expected you to defend me. My friends are Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw – they’ll expect you to allow me to defend you.” He touched Draco’s flushed cheek lightly with his free hand. “Malfoy; that is, _Draco_ ,” His voice was tender and soothing. “Trust me to know my friends, okay? I won’t let them say or do anything to hurt you. Alright?”

 

Draco sighed, instinctively leaning into Neville’s touch. “Yes, alright.” He replied, his whole body going limp and submissive as Neville pulled him into a hug. “Should I call you Neville?” He asked as he snuggled against the taller boy’s body, nuzzling his chest with his face.

 

Neville chuckled at how kitten-like Draco acted the moment he touched him. “Sure, Neville is fine. Or Nev works, too.” He pressed a light kiss to Draco’s soft blonde hair and then set him away from him, squeezing his hand tightly. “Now, come on.” He said, glancing across the entrance hall to where his friends were all standing. “I think they’ve recovered enough to meet you.”

 

Draco sighed, but nodded and followed meekly along in Neville’s wake. Part of him wondered why he was so _soft_ around Neville; the rest of him seemed to simply accept it. They approached the Gryffindors (and a single Ravenclaw) and Draco’s eyes cooled, his face becoming a mask of disinterest. Neville shook his head when he glanced down and noticed but said nothing. As long as Draco didn’t start insulting people, he wouldn’t protest the mask – it was obviously the Slytherin’s way of coping with a situation he didn’t feel entirely comfortable in. Neville stopped in front of his friends, an easy smile on his face, and tugged an unresisting Draco against his side. He secured the blonde there with an arm around Draco’s slender waist.

 

“Draco,” Neville said in a pleasant, cheerful voice. “I’d like you to meet Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Luna.” He was pleased to see all of his friends had grouped together during his chat with Draco; it would make this faster, if not easier. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.” He gave Draco a light squeeze when no one spoke. “Say hello, Draco.”

 

Blushing a soft pink, Draco dropped his eyes to the floor and said, very softly. “Hello, everyone. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He flicked his eyes nervously up to Neville’s face; when Nev have him a soft smile and an encouraging nod, Draco visibly relaxed, looking  relieved.

 

Harry cleared his throat and stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Draco, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” Draco tentatively shook Harry’s hand, after getting another nod from Neville. “It’s nice to see Nev so happy.” Harry added, shooting the rest of his friends a look Draco didn’t understand.

 

Hermione rushed forward next, a bit too exuberantly, and gave Draco a quick hug. “Yes!” She exclaimed, a bit breathlessly as she released the startled Slytherin. “It’s lovely to meet you, Draco. Really. Nev was like a child on Christmas last night after your detention, grinning and whistling and telling us all we could guess but he wouldn’t tell us who you were until today and isn’t this all just a lovely surprise and…”

 

“Hermione.” Ginny touched her babbling friend’s shoulder, cutting her off. Then she smiled tentatively at Draco. “Since everyone is apparently going to pretend the last 6 plus years didn’t happen, allow me to be the voice of reason.” Her voice was mild, but a sense of underlying steel backed it. “I have no personal fight with you, Draco, so as long as you make Nev happy then I’m happy for him. And, by extension of course, you. But if you hurt him, in _any_ way, you’ll find out just how much I learned from Fred and George.”

 

Draco nodded hastily, pressing closer to Neville’s side. The Gryffindor said nothing, but when Draco glanced up he saw the hard look the boy was giving Ginny. In response, the redhead held up her hands and stepped back. “Just a friendly warning.” She said with a smile.

 

Ron snorted, causing Draco’s attention to snap to the boy he’d fought with the most ferociously over the years. “I can’t believe this shit.” Ron said, his anger plain to see on his face. “Nev, Malfoy has treated you worse than _anybody_. What the fuck? I mean, did you get hit with a Confundus or something? I don’t get it!”

 

“Ron…” Neville’s voice was low and dangerous, the warning clear to hear. “Watch your temper, mate. I don’t want you saying something you’ll regret.”

 

“Regret?” Ron’s jaw dropped; his eyes were wide with disbelief. “Are you taking the mickey, Nev? I _regret_ nothing! He’s a miniature Death Eater and everyone knows it! How can you stand to touch him, Neville? How can he _not_ make your skin crawl?”

 

“Ron!” Hermione snapped, horrified. “Shut up!” She hissed at him. “If Neville says Draco is okay, then I believe him. The past is the past and…”

 

“Bullshit!” Ron snarled, cutting his girlfriend off. “That’s bullshit, ‘Mione and you know it! Are you even _listening_ to yourself?” He glared at each of his friends in turn. “This is _Malfoy_ we’re talking about here! He’s nothing but a disgusting, Dark-Lord-loving, scumbag.”

 

Luna was watching Draco’s face and saw as the other boy seemed to shrink into himself, turning his face to hide it against Neville’s chest. “Ron.” Her soft, airy voice stopped his ranting; Luna was odd, but their group had long-since learned she was strangely wise and heeded her when she spoke. “Look at him; he’s trembling. Does that fit with what you think you know about him?”

 

Ron stared in stony-silence at the shaking blonde in his friend’s arms, then snapped. “I don’t care; I think he’s acting. You can all do what you like, but I’m not hanging around and smiling at this farce any longer.” He gave Neville a pitying look. “I hope you come to your senses before he puts a knife in your back, mate.”

 

“Fuck you, Weasley.” Neville’s calm statement took everyone by surprise, but Ron merely inclined his head and walked quickly away.

 

Neville immediately turned his attention to soothing his boyfriend. “Hey, Draco…baby…look at me.” He tipped the blonde’s ashen-face up to his and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Then he moved his mouth to Draco’s ear and whispered. “I know it’s too soon and I shouldn’t say this, but I think I love you already, Draco. I have faith in you. Don’t let Ron get to you, okay? He’s a temperamental git and he’ll pull his head out of his arse eventually and apologize. Until then, ignore him.”

 

Draco felt everything in him settle down and cuddled into Neville’s arms, sighing softly. “Sorry.” He mumbled against the other boy’s chest. “I feel like such a girl around you and I don’t know why…”

 

Dean and Seamus shared a look, then Seamus cleared his throat. “Look, Neville, I’m happy for you and all, but I think one of us ought to go calm Ron down, right?” When everyone (except Neville, Luna, and Draco) looked torn, Seamus added. “Look, it’s best if it’s me and Hermione. She’s his girlfriend and he can’t be too serious around me. No one can.” The Irish boy added with a charming grin. “So we’ll deal with Ron’s temper and hopefully see everyone in Hogsmeade at some point. Alright?”

 

Everyone nodded and after Hermione and Seamus departed, Dean wrapped an arm around Ginny and spoke for the first time. “So, Malfoy.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to call the other boy Draco, but there was no animosity in his tone. When the blonde looked up, he asked. “What did you mean just now when you said you feel like a girl around Neville? Not trying to pry.” He added quickly. “It just seems like an odd thing to say.”

 

Draco bit his lip but figured they’d already noticed his odd behavior so he answered. “Just…softer.” He explained. “You know, like I want to just…let him keep me safe.” Draco made a face. “Merlin, I sound completely pathetic, don’t I? It’s true, though. That whole time we were arguing, all he had to do was touch me and I went all soft and submissive.”

 

“Yeah, that’s not really like you.” Harry said, looking thoughtful. “Nev, he didn’t touch any weird plants in the greenhouse, did he?”

 

“What?” Neville looked startled. “Wait, are you saying you don’t think Draco really likes me? You think this is something magical, like a love potion or something, but caused by a _plant_?” His face twisted with bitterness. “Why, Harry? Why isn’t it just possible that someone actually likes _me_? I don’t see why that’s so unbelievable!”

 

Draco heard the pain in Neville’s voice and it stabbed at him. Instantly Draco felt every surge of hatred he’d ever felt for Harry Potter return, magnified by a thousand. “Fuck you, Potter!” Draco snarled, pulling away from Neville and shoving the Gryffindor boy in the chest. “Don’t you _ever_ fucking talk to Nev like that again! He’s smart and sweet and sexy as fuck and you’re an idiot if you can’t see that!”

 

“Draco…” Neville’s quiet voice caused him to freeze in his tracks; during his tirade he’d drawn his wand and pointed it at Harry, backing him up against a wall.

 

Draco turned slowly to face Neville, looking terrified. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, tears filling his silvery eyes. “I didn’t mean to…I know you said…he…I….”

 

Neville held out his hand and Draco placed his own trembling one on top of it, allowing himself to be drawn into his boyfriend’s arms. “Shhh…” Neville soothed, kissing the top of Draco’s head. “You were defending me, Draco. That’s allowed. 100 percent. I promise.”

 

Draco nodded against Neville’s chest, calming almost instantly. Luna’s voice made him look over. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” She stated, smiling dreamily. “It’s rare, of course, but considering all the rare things that have happened in our lifetime I should have expected that one of us would find ours.”

 

“Find our what?” Harry asked. He wasn’t angry; he was actually impressed with the way Draco had jumped to Neville’s defense, even if he didn’t understand. “Do you have a theory for why Draco’s acting so weird? No offense.” He added to the blonde.

 

Draco waved him off. “None taken.” He said softly, his eyes soft as he looked up at Neville. “I don’t know why I’m like this, but I do know it’s not normal.”

 

“Of course it’s normal.” Luna replied, her eyes focusing on Draco’s face. “Neville is your Amna Chara, Draco. It’s why you feel so gentled around him. As the smaller, physically-weaker partner it’s perfectly natural. Your instincts will be to submit to him, to soothe him, to allow him to comfort and protect you, to obey him whenever possible. You won’t be able to help it. Although you will eventually be able to resist it better, once you’re more used to it.” She added. Then she turned to look at Neville. “In turn, you’ll feel stronger, bolder, and more protective around Draco. You’ll be driven to keep him safe, to command him, to dominate. That’s your role.”

 

Draco’s eyes widened. “Amna Charas are myths.” Draco said, his voice hoarse with fear. Then his eyes flew to Neville’s face. He immediately felt less-panicked and closed his eyes in reluctant acceptance of the truth. “Oh Merlin…myth or not, it makes sense.”

 

Harry raised his hand like a kid in class, earning him smiles from Luna and Ginny. When Luna raised an eyebrow at him, he said. “So what is an Amna Chara, Luna?”

 

“A very good question, Harry.” Luna gestured to the Grand Staircase and they all moved to sit on the stairs while Luna explained. “There’s a belief held by some that, in human form, we are only half of the persona that we were in spirit—spirit being a nonphysical segmentation of the Absolute Intelligence into an individual consciousness.” Her voice was still airy, but had taken on a textbook-like tone. “In spirit, we’re both the lover and the beloved. This love felt by the spirit for its whole-self is too pure, too perfect to be perceived by human senses or the human mind. This energy is too powerful to be contained in a single physical form.”

 

Harry and the others nodded; Dean and Neville had never heard of this before either. Draco and Ginny, however, both knew what an Amna Chara was and were nodding their agreement with what Luna was saying.  
  
“So,” Luna continued, sending a smile in Neville and Draco’s direction. “If this spirit chooses to enter the physical realm, wishing to look into the eyes of love, to feel the touch of love, to know the longing of separation and the jubilation of rejoining, there’s a price that must be paid.”

 

Her voice took on a hint of sadness, her eyes turning wistful. “When entering into the corporeal reality, they who have been forever one are thrown apart—sometimes across time, worlds, or realities. If the distance is too great, they are joined together again only once they return to spirit.” Now her eyes shone with joy and her smile turned tender, her voice growing soft and happy. “But a thread that binds the two remains, no matter what. If they can find each other on the physical plane, the two parts of their spirit will drive them together. They are called Amna Chara, which means Soul Friend. This person is their other half; they complete each other. Once they find each other and their souls reach out and touch, they will stop at nothing to be together.” She gave the boys an odd look. “I’m guessing your animosity was keeping your souls apart. Were you both tired last night?” They both nodded and she smiled again. “That probably allowed your bond to form.”

 

Neville smiled down at Draco. “See? I told you I love you. I’m meant to.”

 

Draco said nothing, but offered a small smile in return. For Neville, it was enough.


	5. Dating

Neville turned back to Harry and offered a small smile. “Do you have…?” He trailed off, not wanting to give away his surprise.

 

Harry chuckled – Neville had woken him up at 7AM to enlist his help with his ‘date’ with his then-mystery-man. “Here.” Harry handed Neville a tattered piece of parchment and his invisibility cloak (both pulled from his bag) and added. “Remember to wipe it clean once you’re done. Dobby said he’d have it all ready for you around 5, okay?”

 

“Thanks.” Neville slipped both items into his own bag. “I really appreciate it.”

 

Draco wondered what exactly was going on, but decided he’d let Nev surprise him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Draco and Neville’s day in Hogsmeade was fairly uneventful. They hit Honeydukes first and Neville learned that Draco had a raging sweet tooth. His slim boyfriend apparently ate fudge like it was going to run away, though how he managed not to gain weight – or break out in spots – Neville couldn’t understand. Draco had laughingly said _‘Good_ _genes_.’ when Neville asked; he took that to mean that Draco worked out and used expensive skin products. He didn’t mind that Draco was apparently a sugar-fiend any more than he minded that he was probably high-maintenance. Nev loved him anyway.

 

They had stopped into Madam Puddifoot’s second. Draco had sneered at the ghastly décor, but he sighed in pleasure when Neville handed him the steaming travel-cup full of hot chocolate so good it was surely a sin. They didn’t stay in the establishment – neither boy was comfortable in such a girly place – but took their cocoa out into the snow with them. As they drank it, they walked slowly down the winding streets of the little village. They didn’t stay on the main road with all the shops but instead meandered through the residential streets. The little houses and cottages were nearly all decorated for Christmas. They had wreathes hung on their doors and fairy lights clung to bushes and trees. Bright red ribbons were tied to lamp posts and door knockers and railings. Snow sat prettily on lawns.

 

As they walked, admiring the picturesque village and sipping their cocoa, they spoke quietly. Neville told Draco about his Gran’s estate, which would one day be his. He explained to the blonde about having never shown magical ability until shortly before his 11th birthday and how he’d feared for a long time that he was a squib. Neville then told Draco about how his Gran had always insisted he had to be an Auror like his parents when he got older. He laughed, saying he didn’t have the grades for it in Potions or Transfiguration, so she’d had to give that hope up, but it didn’t bother him. He loved his parents dearly, but he didn’t _want_ to be an Auror. He liked his plants.

 

The boys stopped their walk, very briefly, for lunch at the Three Broomsticks. They smiled and waved at their friends, but joined neither group. Instead they sat at a small table and ate their food quickly, eager to return to their strolling. It wasn’t just about time to themselves, really. It was about taking the time to get to know each other. It was about learning things about each other, though it had been mostly Neville sharing things. Draco was enjoying learning about his new boyfriend, though. When they were done eating, they headed back outside and back towards the residential streets.

 

Once they were back amid houses instead of shops, Neville began talking again. He wistfully explained how he’d begged the Sorting Hat to place him in Hufflepuff because he didn’t think he could live up to the name Gryffindor. With a soft smile curving his lips, Neville glanced at Draco and added. “One of the only times I’ve ever felt like a Gryffindor was last night, when I kissed you in the greenhouse. Thank you for that.”

 

Draco smiled softly at him. “Yes, well…last night was the first time I’ve ever _not_ felt like a Slytherin…” He paused and Nev looked nervous, so Draco added quietly. “Thank you for that. It’s nice, to feel so…soft. Sometimes.” He added quickly. “I’d hate it all the time, I think. But it’s nice to know that around you I don’t have to be made of ice.”

 

Neville reached out and gently took hold of Draco’s hand. They both had gloves on, so there was no skin-to-skin contact, but the solid weight of the other’s hand and the heat that seeped through the layers of fabric from each other’s palms was nice. Comforting. As they continued walking – occasionally stopping to admire a particularly well-decorated house – Draco proceeded to tell Neville about his own childhood. About the Manor he’d grown up in and flying in front of his father when he was little. Of the first time he’d begged his father to fly alone and he’d fallen, breaking his leg, and his father had carried him back to the Manor while he tried not to cry. He whispered out secrets, about how his parents had slowly grown colder as he’d grown older. He blamed it on stress, or maybe it was his older age. He didn’t really know. But, he explained to Neville with a serious look, he knew his parents loved him. They’d always loved him. That was what mattered; not whether or not they hugged him anymore like they had when he was little.

 

Neville squeezed Draco’s hand as they walked into a small park they’d just stumbled across. It was filled with fairy lights and garlands draped the benches and the gazebo a little way up the path. As they headed towards the little white structure, Neville told Draco about his own parents. About visiting them at St. Mungo’s and how, sometimes, he thought maybe his mother remembered him. She seemed to care for him, anyway, even if she didn’t know he was her son. He explained how – when he was little – he’d cry for hours whenever he got home from one of his visits. Not because he was sad, but because he hated his Gran for making him go and see them. He hated seeing them like that. He liked how they looked in photos – brave and strong and whole; back when they’d known who he was and loved him like they were supposed to. Now that he was older, he didn’t mind going to see them. It made his heart hurt, to have parents who didn’t even know he was their son, but it wasn’t a bad sort of hurt. He knew they were like that because they’d been good and brave.

 

Draco felt horrible for having brought down the mood of their day together, so he suggested they sit in the gazebo. Once they did, he cast a small spell to conjure mistletoe above their heads, earning him a grin from Neville. “You know mistletoe is poisonous, right?”

 

“Thanks, Professor Longbottom.” Draco drawled sarcastically. “Now that we’ve established that we’re not going to eat the stuff, how about you kiss me?”

 

Neville’s laughter was muffled against Draco’s mouth. The blonde turned his body on the bench; pulling his legs up under him so he was kneeling, facing Nev, he wound his arms around the taller boy’s neck. Neville turned as well, tugging Draco at the same moment he pulled his own legs up onto the bench. In the end, Neville was leaning back against the railing of the gazebo, his legs stretched out in front of him on the bench with Draco on his knees, straddling Neville’s thighs. He settled his hands comfortably on Draco’s hips, growling softly when Draco sucked on his tongue. Draco sucked again, a bit harder, and then gasped when the grip on his hips tightened and Nev thrust his hips up, grinding them together. He moaned softly, letting his head fall back and breaking the kiss.

 

Neville leaned forward, his fingers tugging frantically at Draco’s Slytherin scarf. As soon as he got it off he pressed his lips to Draco’s throat. Draco moaned softly again, rocking his hips forward as he felt teeth and a warm, wet tongue on his skin. He shuddered in Neville’s arms as the Gryffindor bit down firmly then sucked the skin into his mouth. “Nev…” Draco’s voice was low and husky and full of need as he rocked his hips again, his whole body taut. “Please…”

 

Neville chuckled against the hickey he’d just made, then he placed a light kiss to the reddened skin. “Not right now, love.” He said softly. Then he pulled back a bit and pressed a light kiss to Draco’s pouting mouth and promised. “Later.”

 

With a sigh, Draco nodded and snuggled against the other boy’s chest. Neville wrapped his arms around the blonde’s slim waist with a happy sigh, content to hold the smaller boy forever.

 

After a long, silent moment, Draco began to tell another story. Still feeling a bit bad about having brought down the mood earlier (though he hoped he’d fixed that already), Draco chose an amusing story. He explained that his father kept several albino peacocks on the grounds of the Manor, since they were supposed to be great guard animals. “I was probably 7 years old.” Draco said, a wry smile on his lips, though he knew Nev couldn’t see it. “I thought they were so beautiful, with all those huge white feathers. Like a giant, living dandelion puff.”

 

Neville chuckled into Draco’s blonde hair and the Slytherin’s smile turned soft and sweet, his grey eyes closing as he reminisced. “I wanted one, so badly. I wasn’t allowed to have pets, you see.” Draco laughed, a brief breathy sound, and added. “I decided I would catch one of Father’s peacocks and hide it in my room. You see, I’d forgotten what Mother had told me about them being guard animals.”

 

He paused, remembering the feeling of excitement and nerves as he’d snuck up on the enormous (to his tiny 7 year old self) white bird, trying to be silent. After a moment, Neville gave him a light squeeze and asked. “So what happened? Did you get bitten?”

 

“Oh no.” Draco laughed again, more loudly this time. “No, peacocks don’t bite as their first defense. No, he spotted me coming and fluffed up, trying to scare me.” Draco’s voice was amused as he explained what had happened. “It just made me more determined; he was so beautiful and I wanted him. So I kept getting closer and then he let out this sound…”

 

Neville patiently waited until his boyfriend stopped laughing and caught his breath so he could continue his story. “I’m sorry…it’s just that peacocks make this horrible noise. It’s like a banshee’s scream, really, and it’s a million times louder than you’d think a bird its size could make. I was so scared I burst into tears and ran all the way back to the Manor.” With another breathy laugh, he added. “I ran right into my mother and told her everything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh so hard. Then she brushed away my tears and kissed my forehead and told me I was very foolish to have tried to catch a peacock with my bare hands; she advised me to be more cunning the next time and set a trap.”

 

“Did you?” Nev asked, curious. “Set a trap, I mean.”

 

“No.” Draco sat up and smiled at Neville. “No, I had lost all desire to keep a peacock in my room. I never tried to catch one again. In fact,” He placed a light kiss on the brunette’s smiling lips. “I don’t even like getting within 10 meters of them if I can avoid it.”

 

Neville chuckled again. “Alright then; no peacocks.” When Draco grinned back at him, he said. “Why don’t we head back towards the shopping district, love?” He glanced up at the sun’s position in the sky and added. “It’s getting late and we’ve got somewhere to be.”

 

Draco agreed and they headed back. Once they reached the shops, Neville continued to lead Draco up the main road, back towards the castle. As soon as they were out of sight of the shops (and any other students) the Gryffindor pulled Harry’s invisibility cloak out of his bag. Though Draco looked at Neville like he was crazy, he got under it with him. He held still as Neville pressed against his back and placed his hands on Draco’s narrow hips, then began guiding him further up the path. They passed through the gates, silent and invisible, and Neville carefully nudged Draco along in the direction he wanted. After a few minutes Neville pulled them to a stop, near a tree Draco recognized as being a Whomping Willow.

 

Still under the cover of the cloak, Neville pulled the ratty piece of parchment Harry had given him out of his bag. He brought his hands around Draco’s waist, one holding the parchment and the other holding his wand. Touching his wand to the parchment, he said, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

 

Draco gasped softly as Neville unfolded the parchment that was swiftly being covered in ink, revealing a detailed map of Hogwarts – including people. Neville checked the grounds near them and, once he was certain they wouldn’t be interrupted, he tugged the cloak off of them and shoved it back in his bag. He then pulled out a broken quill from his bag and transfigured it into a long, slim stick. He frowned when the stick remained Gryffindor red (like the quill had been) but shrugged it off. Draco watched, confused, as the brunette got as close to the tree as he safely could, then reached out with the stick to poke at the roots. Silver eyes blinked in shock when the tree (which had been moving) suddenly shivered and then froze.

 

“Come on.” Neville beckoned to the blonde, keeping one eye on the map. “It doesn’t stay still for long so we’ve got to be quick.”

 

Draco rushed to Neville’s side and then followed him right up to the tree’s trunk. He was shocked to see an opening in the ground, among the twisted roots. He was more shocked when Neville told him to go through the hole. “You’re kidding, right?”

 

“No.” Neville looked up as the tree shivered again and added. “And be quick about it. I don’t feel like getting beaten on by a tree.”

 

Realizing he didn’t have a choice since the tree was about to unfreeze, Draco swiftly climbed into the hole. He realized quickly that it was a tunnel and moved further into it after lighting his wand. He heard Neville behind him and could see the faint glow of the other boy’s wand as well. He stopped and turned to face Neville, frowning. “So why are we in a tunnel under a dangerous tree?” He asked.

 

Neville sighed. “Nox.” He murmured and his wand went out; they could still see by the light of Draco’s wand. Neville touched his wand to the map once more and said. “Mischief managed.” As soon as the map was blank again, he tucked it into his bag and relit his wand. “Lumos.” Then he smiled at Draco and finally answered his question. “I don’t know any way other than this tunnel to get to where we’re going for the rest of our date. Or rather, Harry didn’t know of any other way. He’s the one who suggested this place, actually.” Neville ran a hand nervously through his hair and added. “We couldn’t think of any place else that was quite as private as this.”

 

“Oh.” Draco sighed and turned, heading up the tunnel once more. “Well, let’s go then.”

 

It seemed to Draco, after a few minutes, to be a fairly long walk. He wondered where they were going; where the tunnel led. He finally noticed the tunnel (which had sloped downwards in the beginning before leveling off) had started to rise upwards again. He assumed this meant they were nearing their destination. The way he figured it, based on the approximate distance they’d gone, they had to be somewhere in Hogsmeade. It was either that, or somewhere in the Black Forest. Somehow Draco didn’t think Neville was bringing him into the Forest, though, so he was leaning towards Hogsmeade. Finally, just ahead and above him, Draco saw light shining around what appeared to be a trap door. When he stopped beneath it, Neville reached around him and pushed it open.

 

Draco looked nervously at Neville, then pulled himself through the trap door when Neville gestured. He ended up in the entrance hall of a house. He looked around, surprised, realizing from the boarded up windows and door that he was in the Shrieking Shack. Neville climbed through the trap door as well, shutting it behind himself. Draco stared at him, shocked. He hadn’t realized there was any way to get into the Shack. Neville smiled sheepishly as he waited for Draco to respond.

 

“It’s filthy.” Was all Draco could think of to say.

 

Neville chuckled, but nodded. “This part of the house is, yes.” He took Draco’s hand and pulled him through a doorway, into what should have been a den or a parlor of some sort.

 

Instead, it looked like a hotel suite. A very _romantic_ hotel suite. There was a small, round table with two chairs on the right side of the room. The table had a table cloth and candles and place settings and a cart beside the table was filled with covered dishes that Draco assumed held their supper. There were more candles over the mantle and a roaring fire blazed in the hearth. A soft-looking grey fur rug was spread on the floor before the fireplace and there was a bottle of what looked like champagne sitting in an ice bucket, two crystal champagne flutes, and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries on the floor beside the rug. It was all a bit overwhelming, but it made Draco feel warm inside to know Neville had arranged all of this just for him.

 

There was also a huge 4-poster canopy bed off to the left, covered in fur blankets and silk sheets and dozens of pillows. Draco stared at it. Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind and Neville whispered in his ear. “I don’t want you to be intimidated by the bed, Draco. I just wanted to plan for any possibility. If we end up there tonight, then alright. Nothing would make me happier. But if we don’t, then that’s alright as well. I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

 

Draco turned carefully in Neville’s arms and stared up into golden-brown eyes. “I think I’d like it if we ended the night there.” Draco confessed softly, blushing a bit but determined to say this. “It’s just that I’m a…I mean, I’ve never…that is…”

 

“Ah.” Neville murmured, cutting off Draco’s rambling with a light kiss. “Well, that’s alright. I’m a virgin as well. I expect we’ll figure it out together.” He kissed Draco lightly once more then murmured. “Now, let’s eat and see where the evening goes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I've got written of this one so far. XD So you'll be waiting a bit for more, I'd imagine. Sorry! I fully admit to being horrible about updates, since I tend to get sidetracked by other fics. I have 13 WIP fics currently, so it might be a bit before I circle back around to this one. It WILL be finished eventually, though! I don't really abandon fics, I swear.
> 
> ~ Lady S.


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